Unmasked
by WildMeiLing
Summary: A Vampire Joe story for Halloween! Actually, Joe is just pretending, but he still scares the you-know-what out of Clarisse. More fluffy, toothache-generating sweetness than a pumpkin-shaped bucket of Halloween candy. In fact, I can't even believe I'm posting it. Includes Rupert, Priscilla, and Olivia.


_**A few important things.** _

_First, the Rupert in this story is the same Rupert who's in my story "Just Friends" because I've been having fun envisioning things from that perspective. I do picture this story as taking place quite some time after that one, so Clarisse's and Joe's feelings are more out in the open - between the two of them, I mean - than they were in "JF," but I'm still assuming fidelity all around._

 _Second, I know there are other stories out there appropriate for Halloween, just as I know I haven't found them all. I have read **"Midnight Visitor"** by Peggy Mae and **"The Satin Was A Bad Idea"** by Captain Weirdo, and can highly recommend both. If you have written or read something spooky or festive, feel free to mention it in a comment so we can all look it up and get into the Halloween spirit together. It's like trick-or-treat - but with fanfiction! _

_I should also mention that the 1992 Bram Stoker's_ Dracula _is my favorite, with the connection between Dracula and Mina._

 _Now, I_ **have** _to say: I don't own this stuff…blah blah blah… Not making money…blah blah blah…_

 _And the thing that makes me happy to say: I have a blast writing these things, and I hope you enjoy your time here. Thanks for stopping by!_

 _Whew! That was a lot. The next thing is the story, I promise._

* * *

As her ladies' maids adjusted her tiara, Clarisse gave herself one last critical inspection in the mirror, then held up the mask - her lone Halloween accessory - in front of her face and sighed. Dropping her arm to her side, she smiled gratefully at Priscilla, who was adorable in cat ears and painted-on whiskers, and Olivia, who had glittering face paint swirling around her eyes and flaring into whimsical butterfly wings along her hairline.

"Thank you for all your help, ladies."

They dipped into graceful curtsies.

"You are quite welcome, Your Majesty," replied Priscilla.

"It's our pleasure, Your Majesty. And you do look especially lovely this evening," said Olivia, who had noticed - but had not understood - the Queen's look of disappointment. Then she added, her voice humble and her butterfly eyes twinkling, "If we do say so ourselves."

The Queen's smile grew to a grin that was no less dazzling for its being cheeky. "You may. After all, you did a fantastic job, and I give you both full credit."

She made her way out to the sitting room, leaving them to tidy up. Lost in thought, she looked back over her shoulder as she closed the bedroom door behind her, and did not notice that someone moved silently from the shadowy corner of the room.

When she turned back around, she was face to face with Count Dracula.

"Oh!" she cried, clutching her heart. He chuckled, yet the darkness in his eyes deepened.

Both doors behind her flew open and her maids appeared, looking quite alarmed.

"Your Majesty!"

"Is everything alright?"

She breathed in a mixture of irritation and relief as she turned to reassure them. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little…startled. Our Head of Security is quite convincing."

Seeing that everything was indeed fine, the maids nodded and covertly cast appreciative glances at Joe. Clarisse caught the glances, but did not see the smiles the two women exchanged as they closed the doors.

Those closest to the Queen had figured out the personal nature of her friendship with Joe Romero - everything it was and everything they refused to let it be. Their integrity with respect to Clarisse's marriage vows and their shared devotion to her husband inspired sympathy and a fierce protectiveness among her most loyal employees.

As for the men who formed the security staff under Joe's supervision, all of them respected him for his utter professionalism. A few of them knew intuitively that, were he to perish in the line of duty, professionalism would have had little to do with it. Luckily, being tight-lipped and straight-faced was all part of being a royal guard.

It was still, at this time, Genovia's _best_ -kept secret.

Well, maybe second best.

Joseph waited for the doors to click shut. Then: "Had I been a real intruder with malice aforethought, I'm not sure your ladies' maids would have intimidated me."

"Never judge a book by its cover. Or rather, a maid by her makeup. Olivia knows karate."

"She doesn't. I would know about that."

"So would I, and she does."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to. But I wouldn't think it wise to go on scaring me when she's around." He narrowed his eyes in playful suspicion, but Clarisse was studying him carefully and ready to change the subject. "You did a splendid job," she said with sincere appreciation.

"So did you, my queen," he replied, taking her hand and drawing it to his lips.

He always did that. Yet this time the gesture was imbued with such purity and passion, and there was such an unexpected intensity just below the surface of his jocular demeanor; that she felt a blush poised and ready to color her complexion. She laughed, a slightly unsteady sound, and hastily withdrew her hand to make a twirling motion with her fingers, indicating that she wanted him to spin around.

"Let me see."

He gave her a wicked smile, revealing that he had even managed to score some fangs, before indulging her request slowly.

"That is a seriously authentic costume. Where on earth did you find it?"

"In the back of my closet," he said at the quarter turn. "It was my great-great-great uncle's."

"I thought your family was Spanish for as far back as you could trace it."

"All but my great-great-great uncle who hailed from Transylvania," he amended as he faced the opposite wall. "We don't talk about him much."

"Are you sure there are enough 'greats' in there?"

He spun the rest of the way around quickly then, grasping the edge of his red satin-lined cape and sweeping it up so that it covered the bottom half of his face. "I'm not, but you get the idea."

His sudden movement, occurring just as the traitorous blush had subsided, caught Clarisse off-guard, and his response to her question made her laugh. One emotion after another continued to wash over her in a short amount of time, and she was starting to feel a bit giddy.

"You are fortunate. This is _my_ costume," she said, using the elaborate mask of feathers and jewels to indicate her simple but stunning gown - a creation of purple silk. Joseph released his cape, letting it drop around him with a whispery, rustling sound as he took full advantage of Clarisse's invitation to observe her. "Apparently, it shows a generous, fun side to us to host a costume ball and encourage the palace employees to participate by dressing up. However, the public would perceive our attempt to join in as awkward and slightly lacking in dignity."

"What did you do, take a survey?"

She shrugged her shoulders, the motion somehow elegant. "That's what Declan over in public relations told us. I'm sure he did just that." She sighed as she had before in her room, and held the mask up in front of her face. "So here I am. Do you think anyone will recognize me?" she asked sarcastically.

"I am not a good one to ask, as I would recognize you anywhere. Centuries could not hide your identity from me, let alone -" He moved closer; then gently took the mask and tossed it onto the settee next to them. "- a flimsy little bit of sparkly papier mache."

She swallowed. "You'll have no shortage of admirers this evening," she said, thinking back to Olivia and Priscilla.

"There is only one woman whose... _admiration_...I desire." The way he said it left no doubt that he wanted much more than her admiration.

She would have laughed at him, at the way he was blurring the boundaries between himself and his alter ego. But the boundaries of their personal space were beginning to overlap as well, and the warmth of his breath thrilled her. He had been this close to her before - to protect her, to keep her safe - but this was different.

This was definitely not safe.

"Would that be the married woman who is a dreadful waste of your time and affection?"

"True love is never a waste. The Count is a patient man." Then she was in his arms, and he was bending her backward slightly. "Patient," he repeated, his nose moving down her neck as he breathed deeply, "but all this waiting makes me hungry."

"What are you waiting for?" she asked breathlessly. She had meant to question the futility of his endeavor, but she felt his low, luscious laugh against her throat and knew he had deliberately chosen to take it as a challenge.

 _"'Trick or treat. Give me something good to eat.'"_ His mouth grazed her skin, settling in a kiss just under her jaw and very far away from her hand, the place his kisses had always ended up before. "Your pulse is racing," he whispered huskily.

"I'm just nervous that you're going to drop me."

He raised his head slightly so he could look her in the eye. "Really?" he asked, fully Joseph again and using his skeptical Head of Security voice. As if he would ever. "You can't possibly think that might happen. Perhaps you are attracted to vampires."

She shook her head in a stoic attempt to appear unaffected and not remotely shivery. "I'd take Darcy over Dracula any day."

He smiled slowly, causing her heart rate to increase further. It would not escape his attention, and she tried to hate him for his proximity.

"Would Darcy have this effect on you?"

 _Only you have this effect on me_ , she nearly admitted. "Likely, he would," she said nonchalantly.

"Hmm." He lowered his mouth again for one more kiss to her neck, and reveled in the way her head fell back to give him more room and invite him to linger. Which he did. He breathed in her scent again, heated by her quickened pulse and the faintest of blushes creeping up her neck. He took his time, letting his lips trail down to the hollow between her collarbones. He felt her arms tighten around him, her fingers dig into his shoulders, her back arch and her chest press against his; and he knew he was one second away from never being able to turn back. Reluctantly, he came to his senses and helped her to a more upright position. But he could not fully let her go.

He took her hand in his and slid his other hand across her back before whirling her into a waltz around her sitting room. "I'll bet Dracula was a better dancer."

"Ha!" she scoffed, her apathy more convincing now that his mouth was a safer distance from her. "Dancing is about all those people in Austen novels had to do back then."

"No one does anything better than a vampire," he countered suggestively.

She was about to respond when he brought them to a complete stop, released her, and stepped back. "I didn't hear the music end," she said lightly.

"I think I have bad timing."

She spun around, profoundly startled for the second time that evening, although now she kept better tabs on her composure. "Rupert, there you are." It was such a painfully obvious thing to say, and she flinched inwardly.

The King walked toward them as Joseph bowed lowly. He watched them curiously, but without accusation. "I am here. For better or for worse, unfortunately."

Clarisse opted to ignore his self-deprecating quip and the guilt knotting her stomach. "You look dashing." She frowned quizzically as she took note of a large green smudge on his shirt. "Except for that -"

Rupert didn't seem to hear her. He was looking enviously at Joseph. "His costume is a hell of a lot better than mine." In much the same disappointed way Clarisse had, he lifted a mask to hide his face. "Look, it's on a stick so I don't have to bother with pulling it down over MY CROWN. Do you think anyone will know who I am?"

"It's possible," Clarisse said sympathetically.

Rupert took away the mask. "You are gorgeous."

"Thank you." The guilt swelled at his sincerity.

"Definitely royal though." He considered her thoughtfully. He tipped his head toward Joe, but kept his eyes on her. "You could be Mina."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joseph suck in a sharp breath. She found Rupert's unprecedented openness appalling, but tried to hide it with an off-hand rejoinder. "Oh, I don't think that would be appropriate. Besides, I hate to admit it, but she was younger than I am."

"Age was irrelevant, if I recall." Rupert's pensive gaze shifted back and forth between the other two. "Should I stay out and away a bit later tonight?"

"Rupert!" she admonished. Joseph's face drained of color in a way that suited his choice of apparel.

"Alright, alright. Just thought, since we're all adults here… Anyway, go on, if you're ready. I have to change." He motioned to his shirt. "Close encounter with a zombie." Clarisse quirked an inquiring brow. "Long story," he pronounced, rolling his eyes heavenward in exasperation.

"We'll wait for you."

"If you'd like. I'll just be a few minutes."

"Shall I call for your valet?"

He waved his hand dismissively as he made his way to their bedroom. "I'll manage."

He opened the doors and jumped back in surprise as the maids popped out. They had evidently been by the door, trying to determine whether it was safe for them to leave yet, or if their employer needed a little more privacy with her swoon-worthy vampire.

"Your Majesty!" they exclaimed in unison, somehow looking guiltier than Clarisse and Joseph had a few minutes before. After a quick curtsy, they were on their way, trying much too hard to avoid eye contact with everyone, apparently oblivious that their furtive behavior did more to indict the Queen and her bodyguard than to help them.

Rupert, amused, watched them go. "They need to work on that," he joked.

The doors were closed again before Clarisse could scold him. Alone once more, she looked at Joseph, who was obviously very uncomfortable, his vampirical swagger taken down several pegs.

"He was only trying to be funny," she said.

"Do you think?"

She had never been able to lie to Joseph, nor he to her, which was how they had come to know far more about their feelings for each other than either of them should have known. "No."

He glanced at the bedroom, then took a tentative step closer. "So if you asked, he would…stay out a little longer?"

She bit her lip. "I am afraid he would."

Lying to a direct inquiry, they could not do. But they still each had their secrets.

She had never told him that one night, out of the blue, Rupert had given her his unsought permission to make her relationship with her bodyguard anything they wanted it to be.

Joseph had never shared that Rupert had once pulled him aside before departing for _Genovia One_ , telling him that he had discerned his heart's deepest secret. That he understood. That he wanted him to take care of Clarisse while he was gone. That if Clarisse ever approached him…

He reached for her, not really knowing how to touch her. He faltered and cleared his throat. "I can't do that to you. To either of you."

"I know."

"But I'm tempted," he said, his confession cloaked in shame.

She nodded wordlessly.

He started to say something else, but couldn't. Instead he opened his arms and she fell into them.

For a long minute, there was silence as he held her to him, and in the silence they heard all the things still left unsaid.

"Just promise me that if we ever have a chance in another life…" He trailed off, the rest of the hopelessly romantic request sticking in his throat.

"I'll be waiting for you there."

"Then I will look for you," he swore.

 _to be continued... (but probably not before Halloween)_

* * *

 _Just for fun, I included among the Halloween-y elements a reference to "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe: "And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain/Thrilled me…"_


End file.
